Better be Gryffindor
by MirrorShard
Summary: An attempt to avoid some clichés and enforce others. Assuming that Gryffindors are more than closed-minded fools, Slytherins aren't the only ones playing politics and the title 'Golden Trio' means more than most think. Hidden in plain sight, in the one house they least expected, Harry Potter becomes what he was always meant to be. Hogwarts beware, the Dark Lord's equal is rising!
1. The King of Gryffindor

**Note: **This is kind of a prequel/side story to another one I haven't posted yet (and won't till this one is finished, it is after all the PREquel). Anyway it covers Harry's first two years at Hogwarts. **Everything that happens in the books happens in this universe too **(expect if I've written the scene myself and different of course)**!** These scenes I write are like "outcasts" or something. The scenes that weren't important enough for the plot to be mentioned by JKR. Later the story will differ strongly from canon but that will only affect the sequel. I'm really just laying the ground work for my next project and getting some plot bunnies out of my mind at the same time.

**Warning:** smart!Harry, short story (meaning the chapters will be **short**), a little OOC

**Pairings:** None as this story only covers first and second year so they're a little young to be paired up yet

**Spelling: **I'm not a native speaker so my story is far from perfect. If somebody likes to correct my chapters you're welcome!

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><p><strong>Better be Gryffindor<strong>

_by Schlangenkind_

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 The King of Gryffindor<strong>

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><p>The moment professor McGonnagall called his name Harry Potter could feel the rising tension in the air. So many eyes stared at him, filled with curiosity, expectations and even reverence. It was confusing to say the least but Harry ignored them like he used to ignore his cousin Dudley Dursley when he jumped up and down on the stairs just to make the walls of his cupboard creak and shake as though they would break every second and bury him beneath them. It wasn't that hard either because Harry was used to being watched with merciless eyes. His aunt did it all the time. And those dreadful "friends" of hers.<p>

Then the whispering student body disappeared from view and all that really counted was the husky voice inside his own mind. Because although he had always been the Freak even Harry knew that hearing voices was never a good sign for one's sanity. Then again he was being sorted by a talking hat so maybe, just maybe, things were different in the magical world. Yeah. Anyway.

_"My, my, you are an interesting one, aren't you?"_ The Hat (or at least Harry hoped it was the Hat) chuckled deeply. "_You've got talent, there's no doubt 'bout that and a clever mind to back it up ... So eager to prove your worth. How curious that though you have the strongest character I've seen in quite a while I find myself unable to properly sort you. Now, where shall I put you, Harry Potter?"_

Harry frowned. From what he understood it was the Hat's decision that counted and not his own preferences. But maybe he was just charmed to recognize the subconscious wish of its students?

_"I resent that thought, young man!"_

Who would have thought how annoying a piece of clothing could be once it was able to read your mind? Putting his irritation aside Harry contemplated on the Sorting Hat's question. What did he truly want from Hogwarts'? What did he hope to find? And then Harry remembered. Not the talks about the evil of one house and the wonders of another, no. He remembered the wandmaker Ollivander and the somewhat admiring expression in his eyes when he spoke of the feared Lord Voldemort. _"After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things- terrible, yes, but great."_ Just like that the rude words of a blond boy and the advice of his first friend faded from his mind. Because deep inside Harry wanted … He wanted to be great. He wanted to prove himself and more importantly he wanted to prove the Dursleys wrong. He wanted to count, to be remembered. Not as the Boy-Who-Lived, a title he could barely connect with himself, but due to his own achievements.

In that very moment Harry made his choice. It was a decision he could never take back again. Squaring his shoulders Harry straightened his back, determined to brace himself for the storm that was sure to follow._ "Slytherin,"_ he thought with all the concentration and conviction he could muster._ "Put me into Slytherin."_

_"Hmm,"_ the Hat muttered, sounding somewhat surprised. _"I admit you'd do well in their house where your determination would be appreciated and your strength would grow. But I wonder if it wouldn't be a mistake-"_

_"Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin,"_ Harry repeated again and again, gripping the edges of his seat tightly. He couldn't fail. Never again.

_"You're a driven individual."_ Harry imagined the Sorting Hat shaking his head if he were more, well, human. "_I won't deny that you own many qualities Salazar would have treasured and searched for in his students. Yet I am uncertain wether-"_

_"Then why did you bother to ask for my opinion if you ignore it anyway?" _Harry angrily interrupted the ramblings of that invasive, stupid, annoying idiot.

_The Hat chuckled but it didn't sound as warm as before. "Because your answer says more about you than you might realize and it just convinces me even more that there's only one place for you. Slytherin will bring you power but to uncover your true potential better be GRYFFINDOR!"_ The last part was shouted out loud into the Great Hall and Harry heard the deafening applause from his future housemates. Trying to hide his disappointment (and righteous anger) at the Sorting Hat's choice he took his sweet time to take the damn piece off his head. The last words whispered into the depth of his mind would stay with the boy for a long time.

_"Remember Harry Potter, there are no secrets better kept than the secrets everybody guesses."_

Then there was a swirl of red and gold, loud clapping, curious talking, blinding smiles, whispers about a king and his knights and the crazy words of an old man with the strangest robes ever seen by mankind.

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><p>It confused Harry at first why the first years had to be led to the Gryffindor common room by a prefect separately from the rest of their house but as they passed the portrait of the Fat Lady it suddenly made sense: They had deliberately been delayed so the older students would reach the tower first. Thus Harry was fairly sure that the seating arrangement in the common room was anything but randomly chosen. In fact it must have had a purpose because the way different students were positioned around a couple of armchairs distinctly reminded Harry of a picture from an old muggle book about the tales of King Arthur. Strange. Or was it?<p>

Looking around Harry noticed how although the students of every year were present and scattered all over the room there was some sort of invisible line separating them from the Arthur's Knights, as Harry immediately dubbed them. 'Them' being a group of students in front of the fire place who now faced the newcomers with irritatingly neutral faces. Harry felt his muscles tense involuntary. Something was going on here. The others realised it too if the unbroken silence was anything to go by.

After a terrible long moment one of the sitting boys stood up, drawing the attention on himself. He had dirty blond hair and thin lips. "Welcome to Gryffindor." His words were slow and though he seemed friendly enough something about him annoyed Harry greatly. "By now all of you will have heard many stories about our house and the great people coming from it. Most of them are true, of course. However there are somethings no member of Gryffindor mentions outside these very walls. Again, most of these things you'll pick up eventually as they are rather self-explaining. Therefore we'll only cover the essential things today. The house of Gryffindor as a very simple hierarchy: On the top is the king. There can only ever be one king at a time and each creates his own command structure. We" here the nameless boy waved at the group of students around him „are the Knights. The king's most trusted. We stand directly beneath him and above all of you. Now in general none of us care about what's going on in your life. However if the King or one of his Knights orders you to do something (and the King doesn't contradict it) you do it. _Nothing_ is above the Kings word. Not even the Headmaster or the Minister or whoever your father might be. When the King speaks you listen. It's that simple. There is no breaking his rules because trust me when I say you don't want to find out exactly what's going to happen then. Any questions so far?"

A quick glance at his yearmates confirmed Harry's suspicion. They were much to overwhelmed and intimidated to actually think, never mind asking a question. He wouldn't lie, Harry was scared too, but he hadn't backed down when Dudley's Gang had beaten him up every other day and he wouldn't do it now. Besides the whole concept of a king was fascinating as was the way people just seemed to accept it without saying anything. Nobody laughed at their declaration like a part of Harry expected them to. Weren't they even a little surprised? As far as he knew no books mentioned this kind of power play inside the houses? Or were these some unwritten rules only the magically raised actually understood? Well, it didn't matter because Harry was intrigued. What were the rules a King established? How did a King even get "the crown" so to speak? How did this power structure work and what were its consequences and advantages? Slowly Harry raised his hand. There were so many things he wanted to ask. It wasn't lost on him however that the chosen speaker looked surprised for just a fraction of a second before allowing him to speak. Maybe the kids were normally too awed to say anything?

„How exactly does one become King?"

The speaker blinked. He blinked again. Then he snorted.

Harry frowned. He hadn't said something funny. Not that he was aware of, at least.

„You're an ambitious one, aren't you?" The older boy grinned. „Don't worry, there isn't a chance of you inheriting the crown, little one."

That hadn't been what Harry had wanted to know. But as the rest of the students laughed alongside the Speaker Harry felt his cheeks reddening and his mood darkening. The knot inside his chest was tightening again. And there it was, the insatiable need to _prove them wrong_. All those laughing at him. All those _fools_. Narrowed green eyes fixed their gaze on a young man sitting in one of the chairs in the middle of the Knights. He was ordinary looking with simple brown hair and equally brown eyes. Neither handsome nor ugly. He was the King. There was no doubt in Harry's mind. Suddenly the older one looked up, directly at him like he had felt the challenging gaze.

Harry refused to look away first. Right there, in front of the King, in front of the Knights, in front of everyone he silently vowed to become their superior. They would fall and their empire perish even if they didn't know it yet. Because he was Harry Potter and he didn't bow to anyone.

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><p>Comments? Suggestions? Like? Dislike? <strong>R&amp;R<strong>!

Love Schlangenkind


	2. The Outcasts

**Thanks to my first and only reviewer Kairan1979!**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

**Warning:** some swearing, a bit OCC (because Harry is simply more ambitious than in the books)

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 The Outcasts<strong>

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><p>Maybe challenging the King on his first night at Hogwarts had been kind of stupid. Maybe. Just a tiny little bit. But it had been done and Harry would not take it back. Not that he could even if he wanted to. Because the King had already chosen a punishment for his "insolence" as it was called later on. The upper students were forbidden from helping the first years settling into their new environment. Because <em>if they didn't like the rule of the King they would have to live without it<em> or some such bullshit. No guides through the castle, no assistance with classes and homework. No _nothing_. Ten eleven year old children were left completely on their own.

It was the Arthur Knight's first mistakes. Harry doubted that it would be their last.

Punishing the collective for the actions of a single person was always a risky thing to do. There were generally two ways people reacted to such an (in their opinion at least) obvious injustice. One was distancing one's self from the cause of said punishment. It was what Harry had feared and expected. It was what the King wanted. To alienate him from his year mates, to keep him from gaining allies, _from gaining power_. It was a good plan, Harry had to admit that. But it wasn't infallible as the four other boys had proven the very next day.

Harry had been honestly surprised when at the brick of dawn a dark-skinned boy woke him with a friendly smile and a simple "Let's get up, we'll need the time to find the Great Hall. Name's Dean by the way." In the bathroom Harry met another boy with sandy blond hair and freckles who introduced himself as Seamus Finnigan. Neville whom he had already met on the train was searching his toad again and was crawling on the floor while Ron Weasley finally stumbled out of his bed after Dean threatened to get some ice-cold water. Standing in the middle of said chaos which somehow looked strangely normal Harry suddenly felt a little lost. He didn't know any of these people, _not really_ anyway but he would stay in the same dorm with them for seven years. Which could prove to be an eternity if he didn't make some friends. And he might have already blown that chance on his very first day because of his stupid pride and the King's idiocy. It was a frustrating thought and Harry didn't like it one bit.

"I'm sorry about-you know- last night and the whole King-thing." He shrugged, feeling awkward. Harry had never apologised before. Not while actually meaning it anyway. There was no reason to when you lived with people who absolutely detested your very existence and would never believe your "slimy excuses" anyways.

Harry was the first to admit that he had limited experience with socializing (one of those nice little after-effects of growing up in a cupboard of all things and having a gang after you that drove any potential friend away before he could even utter a word) but he still thought the reaction of his roommates was surprising. He wasn't used to support and these guys had no real reason to back him up. In fact it would probably only get them into trouble in the foreseeable future. But they knew that and still chose to stand beside him. Actually, they didn't even look terribly upset about the punishment the King had given them. "It's alright, you know. There was nothing wrong with asking a question, you didn't even insult anyone. The King had no right punishing you or us for that matter," Seamus muttered while searching through his trunk for some matching socks. "Yeah," Neville agreed, having finally found his toad inside Harry's left shoe. "It wasn't fair and a King should never abuse his power or he'll lose his right to reign. That's how all the stories go after all." Then Ron shuffled out of the bathroom, a smudge of toothpaste still on his chin, and yawned loudly before stating what the boys seemingly had all agreed upon. "We're on your side, mate, so get over it already. Now, breakfast anyone?"

And that was that.

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><p>After their first day at Hogwarts the five Gryffindor first years fell into an easy daily routine. Of course they were late for classes a few times (the resulting loss of points didn't exactly endear them to their house members but then it really was their own fault anyway) and had no one to show them helpful library books but at least they all agreed on having the perfect reason to explore the castle in more detail. During the first week they spent as much of their free time as possible on investigating the different corridors and staircases. Dean who was a very good artist started drawing plans of the school grounds while Seamus and Ron made it their mission to find as many hidden passages as they could (they found out about the possible short-cuts after Harry once leaned against a wall who simply swallowed him whole and he ended up on the sixth floor). Neville who had a nearly unhealthy passion for herbology had taken it upon himself to explore the nature surrounding Hogwarts, especially the green houses of course. Only exception being the Forbidden Forest. They would do that once they knew a bit (or a lot) more magic to protect themselves. Harry on the other hand put his experiences with his unpleasant relatives to use and shadowed people, searching for popular hideouts, the three other common rooms and the likes. He was good at what he did too (though he had only found the entrance to the Ravenclaw Tower so far). They all were.<p>

But Hogwarts was still a magic castle and in the end it took them a lot longer (about three weeks actually) until they had a solid understanding of their school. Barring the third floor, parts of the dungeons and a few completely destroyed hallways of course. Still, they managed. That evening as Dean had finally finished his latest map they celebrated a little with the sweets Seamus' mum had sent her son on his request. It felt great knowing they had done it all on their own. With no help from their fellow housemates at all. Actually it wasn't good, it was _bloody fantastic_.

As Ron lifted his plastic cup (he'd been fascinated with the strange material for hours) and jokingly shouted "To the Arthur King who made all this possible, simply by being an ass!" they all laughed. It wasn't the first time Ron had said something along those lines but it was the first time each and every one of them believed it.

It might have started out of necessity but nothing bonded a bunch of kids together like a common enemy.

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><p>All in all Harry was quite happy with his less than exciting life at Hogwarts. Sure, the older students only talked to him during Quidditch practice (he had become a member because of McGonagall's decision and the Arthur King hadn't found anyone who could best him so there was no reasonable way to replace him as of yet though certainly not for lack of trying) and the Arthur Knight's plus their King had it out for him but he had friends. Like real <em>friends<em>. People who weren't afraid (okay, maybe a little bit afraid but that didn't stop them, they were after all Gryffindors) to stand up for him, the Freak. It was definitely strange.

Time went by and it was already Halloween when once again changes occurred in the dynamics of the Gryffindor house. It wasn't so much the fact that Ron and Harry nearly got themselves killed while trying to save the life of Hermione Granger, a Gryffindor girl with an unhealthy obsession for rules, but the consequences of said "heroic" battle. Obviously saving her life meant that they were now friends with Hermione although Harry couldn't really follow that logic. But he desperately needed allies, so who was he to object? Besides the girl was intelligent and driven though socially somewhat _inept_, for the lack of a better word. She reminded Harry a bit of himself, just more vocal. Once they actually tried the other boys took surprisingly well to Hermione and soon she was included into their tight-knitted group. Sure, her friendship with Ron and Harry was a bit different and more special but that was probably because they lived through a really dangerous event and survived it. Together.

Hermione brought some welcome fresh air into their group. However she also brought trouble. Not willingly or even knowingly but Harry saw it in Arthur King's eyes the morning after Halloween when the girl first sat down next to Neville and chastised Ron for his horrid table manners while answering Dean's curious question about how she managed to stay awake in Binn's lesson with a snappy retort. It didn't take a lot of common sense to realize that the King didn't take too kindly to the steadily growing group of children outside his reach. But it was his own fault, really. It had been him who banned all the first years from his reign, so what if they created their own home outside the known Gryffindor world? So what if they were different? Building their very own kingdom, directly in front of a powerless dictator? Alright, maybe not exactly _powerless_.

But there were few things Arthur King could actually do. They were after all only first years and most of the older students weren't comfortable with antagonizing the "little ones". Thanks to eavesdropping on some conversations in the common room after curfew Harry knew quite well that many weren't happy with casting out the youngest members of their house. It was understandable as many had younger siblings or simply couldn't fathom how a couple of first years could possibly deserve such a spiteful treatment. It made them question their King's decision without Harry doing anything at all. They were of course right in a way. Harry wasn't arrogant enough to think he could actually overthrow the Arthur Knights or some such nonsense. They were eleven for Merlin's sake! Right now they really couldn't do anything. However the older students also forgot something very important, something only Arthur King seemed to realize: _They wouldn't stay eleven forever_. But as long as they were young their vulnerable nature gave them another kind of protection and Harry planned to use it as long as he could.

A slap on the back of his head drew Harry back into the real world where Hermione shot him a mischievous smile and Neville nervously asked if he'd seen Trevor recently. Dean was already drawing a wanted-poster while Ron hit Seamus with a pillow because of some sarcastic remark about the usefulness of a toad. Relaxing against the wall Harry began discussing their transfiguration homework with Hermione while he enjoyed being the feeling of being just another normal child. Because right now he was just that and nothing more. And he wouldn't have to be _more_ for a couple of years yet.

They had time.

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><p>So what do you think? No action or anything but they are first years and in the end still fairly innocent. None of them (not even Harry :D) plan on going dark or anything. And really the King hasn't done anything drastic. Yet. Do you think that will change? What could he possibly do? And how would Harry and his friends react? <strong>R&amp;R<strong>!

Love Schlangenkind


	3. The Rebellion

**Thank you very much for the reviews!**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

**Warning:** a bit OCC (because Harry is simply more ambitious than in the books), some bullying

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 The Rebellion<strong>

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><p><em>I don't remember the beginning anymore. I just remember the end. And the price we paid for it.<em>

Harry Potter

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><p>It all started with a name. Of course, great changes always had a somewhat strange, small beginning though few ever cared to remember it. Maybe it was for the best if history glossed over these less than well great details. Some things were better left out. No matter what most idealists might think there were truths that should stay forgotten.<p>

Harry had never considered becoming a revolutionary. Alright, that wasn't true. Of course he had spent some History of Magic lessons contemplating how he and his friends could bunch together, study really hard and become some freaky magical protégé who would hen succeed in overthrowing the Arthur Knight's reign.

But the truth, no matter how bitter, was that they were nothing but six outcast first year students with not even all of them able to cast the _Wingardium Leviosa_. Hermione had a bright mind, Dean was a talented artist, Neville had a green thumb, Ron was a fantastic chess player, Seamus could get along with everyone (especially the girls, strangely enough) and Harry was practically radiating magical energy. All their abilities mixed together made for a powerful person sure. But they weren't. They were six different people with different backgrounds and beliefs. Alone each of them was merely ordinary.

That's why day after day when the Arthur Knight's took the most comfortable seats and about half of the tables in the common room for themselves as they spent another uneventful evening together, laughing and studying alongside Harry ignored the ever-present urge to somehow finish them off. It would have been a pitiful attempt that's for sure and the Arthur King didn't need more ammunition against him than he already had.

He had always kind of guessed that his friends were of a similar mindset as they had never showed a sign that indicated otherwise. Or maybe (most likely, actually) they just didn't see life as he did. If the gruesome years with the Dursleys had taught Harry anything it was that life meant fighting. Life itself was a fight. You constantly battled against hunger, sleep, illnesses, humans, ideas or prejudices. There was definitely wisdom in the 'survival of the fittest' theory by Darwin. Harry still remembered the debates they had in biology about the often misunderstood or even knowingly misused saying. It had certainly been an interesting subject. One of the few which actually caught his attention for quite some time. It had been something to think about during the long nights he spent locked up in his cupboard.

It went without saying that Harry hated the Dursleys. There was no common ground, no room for forgiveness, no heat or unnecessary turmoil. For Harry it was one of the most simple and obvious rules of life. It was a universally acknowledged fact. Unquestioned. It didn't however mean that Harry hadn't learned anything of value in that trice damned house that was so similar to its neighbours it was sickening. They had never taught him any kind of belief for what was right or wrong, none of these things. Expect maybe that whatever he did, it was certainly always wrong. The one rule Harry had learned while growing up was that life was all about fighting and surviving. It was a rule he followed to this day and it had never led him wrong. In fact the behaviour of his house mates did nothing but confirm what he had already known. That didn't mean it didn't hurt to be abandoned. Because it did. Just not as bad as back with his _family_ were he had been completely on his own.

Harry had gotten to know his new friends better and had soon reached the conclusion that though Neville's relatives needed a serious trashing and Hermione had obviously dealt with some kind of bullying in her years before Hogwarts none of them had lived through the hateful environment he had grown up in. Which was good for them but it also meant they lacked some very useful experiences Harry had at one point in his life been put through. They did never have to steal food to survive, they did never have to make themselves invisible to escape Dudley's stupid and slow (but unfortunately not that slow) gang.

Sure, the Gryffindor first years all agreed on the unfairness of the Arthur King's rule but they didn't actually take the Knight's as a serious threat. Unlike Harry they didn't spend every waking hour obsessing over how he would defend himself against the older students and eventually even get the better of them.

It was probably for the best too. There easy acceptance that though they didn't like the Arthur king they were powerless to do anything about it meant that Harry only had a obxonious spoilt Malfoy prince, a three-headed guard dog and some unknown spiteful bastard (Professor Snape) who jinxed his broom to worry about. His friends didn't remain unaffected of these strange on-goings either. Hermione completely buried herself in her research about Nicolas Flamel (somehow she was convinced that the answer would solve all their problems) and dragged a constantly complaining Ron along. Seamus and Dean took turns on alternatively guarding the locked door in the third floor and following Snape whose mood continuously got worse around. Finally Neville was tasked with keeping the Slytherins (more importantly Malfoy) occupied with one thing or another. The poor boy found himself more often hexed or cursed than any other first year including the Hufflepuffs which would have been quite an achievement had anyone bothered to care.

That was why on the very day IT happened Harry who normally helped Hermione and Ron in the library was just returning to the common room from an especially nasty Quidditch practice. Honestly, Oliver Wood's obsession with that sport just couldn't be healthy. Harry was taking his sweet time in returning to the Tower, not at all eager to work through another horribly boring book about the Most Important Political Degrees Past By Remarkable Wizards. No, he definitely was in no hurry at all.

IT was something small. Honestly. It wasn't live-defining or anything. In fact, all that actually happened was Harry stumbling over the Arthur King chatting up some Ravenclaw girl. Of course, the older boy's love life was very much uninteresting from an eleven year old's point of view. Which was the reason as to why Harry didn't care all that much about the dishevelled state of their clothes. The (admittingly beautiful) chit's words were a lot more informative.

"Please Wanya, be serious for once. I-"

Noticing Harry's presence she stopped speaking immediately and deciding to avoid any kind of trouble the little first year hurried down the hallway before either of the other two had the chance to actively acknowledge him. He had already heard enough anyway.

Now, everyone would readily admit that nothing actually happened that evening. So why the big deal? To be truthful not even Harry realised the impact this newly discovered information would have on his friends. It would take months before there would be any serious consequences after all.

But what happened? It was so simple it took Harry weeks to figure it out and he might have never made the correct connections if it wasn't for Hermione's impressive logical abilities. Because that night as Harry returned to the first year dorm where Ron and Seamus had spread out books everywhere he told his friends about said meaningless encounter. In passing. And though he didn't notice it was the very first time Harry didn't call the older boy 'Arthur King' but simply by his given name 'Wanya'. And he certainly didn't realize that his friends unconsciously began to copy him.

It was the beginning of The Rebellion, not that they knew it yet. Because by calling the King by his name they shattered the myth. The King became human again and he became vulnerable. It was a slow process but it was very effective. Even more so because no one else understood the consequences of this small, insignificant change either and so nothing was done about it. But the last bit of power the King had had over them simply because he was the King broke that night.

Naturally nobody would be able to recall it later on because the silly beginning of great changes isn't meant to be remembered and a few minutes later Neville quite literally fell through the portrait into the common room, his legs stuck together by a well placed curse from Malfoy, and as the Arthur Knight's laughed themselves silly Harry gave his friend his last Chocolate Frog. And as they sat together in the farthest corner of the common room and discussed the hidden Philosopher's Stone in hushed voice Harry's accidental meeting with Wanya and the cute girl was all but forgotten.

The damage though was already done.

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><p>With a deep sign Harry closed the door to the dorm and heavily leaned against it. Ron and Neville had fallen on their respectable beds and were panting harshly, still not quite recovered from their sprint from the Great Hall to the safety of their own room. Harry didn't like to admit it but Wanya had played his part brilliantly. And it was their own fault too.<p>

Looking back they had actually been extremely lucky though it definitely didn't feel that way right now. But if McGonagall had found them with an illegally raised dragon losing school points would have probably been the least of their worries. Still, the professor docking one hundred point from each of them had given Wanya an opening they should have avoided at all costs.

The king of Gryffindor had managed to convince the whole house that the snivelling eleven year olds needed some discipline. At the beginning of the year when the older students were forbidden from helping the new ones around Harry had thought that the punishment wasn't half as bad as he imagined. Now he knew he was right. Being hated by your entire house was _so much worse_. One would think his life with the Dursleys had Harry prepared for the horrible treatment they received but being used to something didn't make you feel any better.

It wasn't like they were physically hurt or anything. Harry doubted they would ever go that far. But there was the name-calling (while never being called by your given name), being either ignored or insulted or only being allowed to eat at the least favored places in the Great Hall. Sometimes they were pushed around a bit and of course there was the one time Seamus stumbled on the moving staircases and broke his left arm. They had no prove that anyone was messing with them of course and maybe it had really been an accident but they were all getting a little paranoid. Like when Hermione's ink bottle broke and all her essays were ruined. Or that one time Harry's bag was ripped open and he was late to Potions which costed Gryffindor another twenty points. It were only little things. And they didn't happen often. But it was enough.

Hermione had stopped drawing any attention to herself. During classes she was still, always concentrating on the books and never answering a professor's question if it wasn't directed at her. Neville's nerves had gotten a lot worse. Outside their dorm he was completely incapable of even just talking, let alone mastering a charm or brewing a potion. Seamus who was always the happy talkative one hadn't smiled in forever. Dean's drawings had lost all their color until he stopped painting completely after coming back from class one day to find his sketch book ripped to pieces. And finally Harry had lost the calming happiness that had healed some of the damage the Dursleys had done to the boy and kept him peaceful and content. The more his friends faded into the background though the more aggressive Harry became. It was only thanks to Hermione's intervention that he hadn't cursed anyone yet. He was getting close to his breaking point though.

The worst for the six first years though was the fact that no-bloody-one did _anything_ about the painfully obvious bullying going on. In fact the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were nearly as worse while the Slytherins faked thankfulness. The professors turned a blind eye or two on the situation. When McGonagall one day docked points from them for defending themselves (though at least the attackers lost significantly more points) she lost all respect the children had had left for their Head of House.

It was that very same night that the six started fanatically researching any and everything to do with the position of the King of Gryffindor. Especially the rules for ending one's reign. Their hopeless situation gave them the necessary determination to try the impossible. Because as the muggles said 'desperate times called for desperate measures'.

And so it happened that just half an hour before curfew, hidden in the depths of the library on a normally abandoned table a group of bitter first years officially made the decision to_ do something_ as everyone else was obviously much too cowardly to do act. They all chose their side that night. It was a decision none of them could take back.

Hours later Harry was still wide awake and he wondered if his massive point loss wouldn't end up changing things for the better. Wanya's punishment was terrible, no doubt about that, but wasn't it dangerous to push them into a corner like that? To cut them off from all the other students and declaring them pariahs in their own house? Harry couldn't help but smile, knowing better than anyone that Wanya had made yet another grave mistake.

Because now they had nothing left to lose anymore.

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><p>Yeah, I know some of you probably expected the escalation to be a bit more violent but I actually think the bullying of the houses could be a lot worse than any physical harm (plus it's actually canon-comliant), especially all the psychological consequences it could have ... We'll see. <strong>R&amp;R<strong>!

Love Schlangenkind


	4. The Golden Trio

**AN: **Just wanted to thank you for the reviews you wrote because it's really encouraging, let me tell you! Also this is the second last chapter of Better be Gryffindor. **So while I have the sequel planned and everything I really have no idea which title it should have. Any suggenstions?**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

**Warning:** a bit OCC (because Harry is simply more ambitious than in the books) and I'm sorry for any mistakes I've made!

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><p><strong>Chapter 4 The Golden Trio<strong>

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><p><em>You can hear rumors. But you can't know them.<em>

Jay Asher, Thirteen Reasons Why

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><p>When Harry had first come to Hogwarts he had thought all the starring was annoying. Now, near the end of the year, it was <em>Merlin damn aggravating<em>. The only thing that was even worse were the rumors. Because everyone talked about him. And no matter what nonsense Snape liked to sprout off, it wasn't arrogance that made Harry say this. It was simply the truth. For three days he and his friends had been the topic of the entire school. Not because Hermione had beaten everyone else in the end of the year exams. Not because Neville had shattered any and all records during his Herbology test. Not because Seamus managed to throw Malfoy down some stairs (though the blond Slytherin had only broken his arm which Madame Pomfrey had managed to fix within thirty minutes - much to Seamus' disappointment). Nobody cared about these minor occurrences.

All the students were talking about was how Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley had fought a troll. How Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley had knocked out Professor Quirrel because he had obviously tried to poison the Headmaster. How Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley had landed themselves in the infamy because they had been beaten up by a group of seventh year Slytherins - of course only after they had managed to thwart their plot to use an old, very dark ritual to release one of the seven demons of hell onto the school.

Each new rumor was less true and more ridiculous than the last one. Which didn't seem to matter as children all over Hogwarts were soaking them up like dried out sponges. It was crazy. The wizarding world as a whole was crazy. But that was hardly a new development, wasn't it?

What seriously got on Harry's nerves though was the whole "Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley" thing. What about Dean who had actually sent a letter for Dumbledore's help? What about Neville who distracted Wanya and his consorts and ended up stunned on the grounds of the common room until the early morning because of it? What about Seamus who guarded the door on the third floor and kept a couple of curious sixth years busy? Didn't their involvement count too? Weren't they just as important?

The answer? No.

Somewhere between the Troll-Trouble _as Ron liked to call it_ and the Quirrel-Quest _as Hermione had humorously dubbed it_ the three of them became some sort of super hero team in the eyes of the student body. Hermione had theorized that it had something to do with the Boy-Who-Lived thing and that people expected him to be special. He already was their hero, so why should he not continue with his job? Hermione and Ron were his perceived best friends. Their presence made him more human and less of a legend. Because in the stories the champion always had a few faithful companions which stood by his side no matter what happened. At least that's what Neville told them.

"Humans want a figurehead, a role model they can admire and envy. You three are more of a symbol than anything else, really" Dean agreed.

The other three weren't to bothered about staying out of the limelight. On the contrary, it actually made life much easier for them and they liked to call themselves 'undercover agents' (which in Harry's mind was just another example for the horrors of mixing wizarding and muggle culture) because the general student population had no idea how close they six Gryffindor first years truly were.

Harry still didn't like how everybody assumed that three first years saved the school on their own (never mind that in truth it were still just six first years) though - of course - nobody knew _what exactly_ they had done. But all those silly rumors flying around were enough to create something unexpected and very important. Like most things these days it was completely unplanned and had actually started out as a sort of nice but still pretty nasty joke.

_The Golden Trio_.

It was one of the Gryffindor upper years who first invented said nick name and within a few hours it had spread all over the castle. Harry first heard the news from Lavender Brown. (Who else, really?) In the collective mind of Hogwarts there soon were no Gryffindor first years. There was just the Golden Trio formed by Harry, Hermione and Ron, and some other little kids nobody cared about. Of course children like Susan Bones or Terry Boot knew Seamus or Neville or Dean on a personal level. It was just in the world of gossip were the existence of the other boys and girls from their year faded into nothingness, not in the real world.

However the title Golden Trio still resulted in some changes among their peers. Because through these rumors Harry, Hermione and Ron became something else. Something _more_. They were still the guys the other students sat with during lessons or asked about homework and stuff. But they weren't really approachable anymore. At least not when it was just the three of them, sitting in an isolated corner in the library. Because then it was obvious that they had some save-the-world-business to do. And if Neville happened to just sit next to them his presence was graciously overlooked.

Harry thought it was stupid. Ron thought it was brilliant.

"Don't you get it, Harry? This is going to give us power, to give us influence! The exact thing Wanya so desperately wanted to deprive us of! In making us heros they give us power and at the same time in making Seam, Nev and Dean seem irrelevant they give them power too. It's just a different kind of power. Look, it's not like we can really do much about changing other people's view of us because they have already formed one. But it is an illusion that we can use to our advantage. Besides have you seen Wayna's face when you entered the Great Hall and everyone was silent for moment or two? Mate, it was _awesome_! I've never seen anyone so pale yet so bloody red at the same time! Now stop moping already and get down into the common room before I send Hermione up here. You _know_ I'd do it."

And maybe (but it was a very, very small maybe) Ron had a point. Not that Harry would ever admit it. He was too busy hurrying down the stairs before Hermione decided to take matters into her own capable hands.

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><p>Looking back it was really funny (in a sad sort of way) how they didn't have to do anything at all. It weren't Harry, Hermione and Ron who created the Golden Trio. It were the rumors. The fantasy of other children. Their gossip made the group of first years appear in a certain way and soon enough people started <em>seeing<em> them in the same way. It was a fascinating concept. And it made their plan easy. So very easy.

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><p>It was the last day of the term. The Great Hall was decorated in green and silver, the air filled with the happy chatter of hundreds of children.<p>

"I found it!" Hermione hastily slipped into her seat next to Neville. Interested Harry turned from his discussion with Dean whether it was worth the trouble to try to invite Ron to a football game during the holidays. They still hadn't decided. Curious green eyes observed their friend who was literally vibrating with excitement. She was late, Harry's mind absently noted. Hermione was _never_ late.

"What's going on?" Neville asked and promptly knocked his cup off the table as Hermione threw her arms around him in an enthusiastic and very awkward hug.

"I found the solution!" Hermione repeated with a blinding smile, completely ignoring the shell-shocked look on her poor victim's face.

"What's going on?" Seamus asked carefully.

In less than a second Hermione's eyes turned from glowing happily to unforgiving diamonds. "I just told you!" Her voice sounded exasperated although Harry privately thought that she should be used to it by now.

Seamus tight expression suddenly relaxed into a well-practiced pout. "How comes Neville asks a stupid question and gets a hug and when I ask a stupid question I get snapped at?" He looked really adorable with his wide, disappointed eyes.

Dean started laughing first.

"It's 'cause Nev is just too cute not to hug" Hermione replied finally with her nose stuck into the air. The effect was lost though, when she too started giggling in that girly way that always sounded strange coming from someone like, well, _Hermione_.

Casting a glance at the teacher's table Harry noticed that Dumbledore got ready for his usual goodbye-and-have-a-nice-holiday-speech. "What did you learn, Hermione?" He asked quietly. His friends calmed down immediately and Neville was spared another hug from the only girl in their group just to prove her point.

"Oh, right. Sorry Harry" She smiled sheepishly. Then she leaned forward and continued with such a soft voice that her fellow first years had to concentrate really hard to understand her. "I finally realized that the only one's who would know how to overthrow the king were those who had either done it themselves or witnessed the fall off another. As Wanya has been in his position for about three years I wondered if maybe some of the fifth to seventh year would tell us. The problem is that all of them are really loyal to the king. That's when I wondered if maybe, you know, one of them wrote a diary or something." Hermione blushed at the admiring glances she was receiving.

"Yeah, well … I remembered how the twins always used to tease Percy about his need to write anything and everything down, so I thought it was worth a try … So I bribed Fred and George to help me because they know their brother best and I was worried that he would protect such private documents and we'd get into serious trouble with Wanya and his people, especially if they found out what we're trying to do. Anyway, they got me what I needed just half an hour ago. And just so you know, Percy really turned out to be the perfect choice. He wrote down everything he knew but I only had the time to copy down the most interesting things-"

"Good work, Hermione" Harry interrupted suddenly. "But all the details can wait until the train ride. Headmaster Dumbledore is about to start, so be quick: How do you end a king's reign?"

Her brown eyes bored into his, her expression alarmingly fierce. "_Be aware though, renegade, for your path is dangerous for sure. Three times you may defy the Chosen; three times you may prove your worth. For in magic, mind and moral the king conquers his enemies. His reign shall last until another's challenge proves his flaws, until the father's blood returns._"

Seamus frowned. "So … what exactly does it mean?"

"Well, the 'father's blood'-bit probably means that any descendant of Gryffindor can overrule the king." Neville said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, but that's absolutely useless nowadays. There is no way to prove that anyone in this school is a heir to Godric Gryffindor and even if their was, the chances that someone actually _is_ are slim. With our luck, Wanya might even be the one" Ron muttered darkly.

„Is their no magic heritage test or something?" Dean asked curiously.

„No" Neville answered. „There are few potion masters talented enough to create new potions and the purebloods never had much interest in developing something along those lines. In fact, it was banned about thirty years ago. I mean, there are spells to prove whether a man or woman is a child's father or mother but nothing that goes back any further. The old families have some tapestries but while they are magical the head of the house adds new members personally. There is no magic involved in tracking possible heirs down."

„But why not?"

„Because over the years there have been some theories about how muggleborns are really just descendants from squibs that were cast out of the family. No pureblood wanted to risk that a muggleborn could actually have some sort of claim on their precious family fortune" Ron shrugged.

„Alright" Harry brought them back on track before they lost focus. „So we have to do this the old-fashioned way. What do we have to do?"

„Well, it says that the reign of a king ends when someone bests him in a battle of magic, a battle of the mind and a battle of morals." Hermione repeated.

"So ... How do we get Harry on the throne?" Seamus whispered.

For a long moment, everything was quiet as six children mulled over old words, hopeless situations and powers long since faded. Then the jovial voice of the headmaster broke the strained silence. And as the banners on the ceiling turned golden and red, as the applause drowned out every clear thought and all their worries melted away like ice cream in the sun, Harry leaned his head back, staring at the glowing ensign of his house - the house the Sorting Hat had chosen for him almost a year ago - and he _knew_.

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><p>No bullying this time. It's actually more of an overview of how Hogwarts in general sees Harry&amp;Co. It's also the end of the first year. Next chapter will be second year - and the last chapter of this story. So, what do you think? And any suggestions for the title of the sequel? <strong>R&amp;R<strong>!

Love Schlangenkind


	5. The Illusion

**AN: **This is the last chapter. It's not what I planned but oh well. Thank you for the reviews! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

**Warning:** a bit OCC (because Harry is simply more ambitious than in the books)

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><p><strong>Chapter 5 The Illusion<strong>

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><p>Had anyone bothered to pay closer attention to the Gryffindor table on this beautiful sunny morning, they might have noticed that something was a little <em>off<em>. Maybe they would have seen the weary expressions and tired eyes on most of the usually bright, young faces. Maybe they would have caught the nearly inconspicuous gap, separating a small group of children from the rest of their house. Maybe they would have wondered about the excited whispers, eagerly shared between the untamable first years. Maybe they would have seen, just for a moment, how the posture of six students had become a bit more self-assured. Maybe even if they didn't actively notice any of these things they would have unconsciously picked up on the change in the air, the way green eyes had taken on an unholy shine, the way the mood had shifted in reaction to something new. Something big. Or maybe they wouldn't have noticed anything at all. Because they didn't know what to look for. Because they didn't _see_.

But that was alright.

These students, though blind they might be, had at the very least an excuse.

The same couldn't be said for the perceptive adults at the head table, whom were all used to work with children and turned yet again a blind eye on the obvious changes happening around them. Then again excuses might be all these so-called teachers had left.

_Of course _the students were nervous and agitated. After all, hadn't one of their own been taken just the other night?

Sure, the poor dears looked a little exhausted. But wasn't it _understandable_, considering they had first worried about a member of their house and then celebrated the courageous saviour of the kidnapped little girl for the rest of the night?

Yes, some of the children seemed a little wary of young Potter, but wasn't it _reasonable_? He had defeated a gigantic monster with only an old hat, a sword and a phoenix after all.

_Naturally_, it wasn't normal for a twelve year old boy to beat a Basilisk. But this _was_ the Boy-Who-Lived, so there was really nothing unusual about the happenings of last night.

The hero had rescued the princess. Hogwarts was save again. The students calmed down within a few days. _The rumors didn't_. Harry Potter recovered quickly and was soon once again with his friends, continuing to stay isolated from the other house members. Ginny Weasley often followed them around. Wanya Blevins kept a watchful eye on the troublesome second year group during all meal times. _Nothing had changed_.

Except it had.

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><p>The start of their second school year had been mostly uneventful. The changes came slowly, like poison. And the children gradually adjusted to their new circumstances without even realizing what was happening.<p>

In September 1992, Dean Thomas didn't decorate his wall with posters of football teams and famous muggle athletes like he had done the previous year. It was just difficult to keep track of two separate worlds all the time, especially when the latest game of Manchester United didn't compare all that much to a psychotic bludger trying to kill one of his best mates. Dean hadn't even realized how out of touch he had become with the world he came from until he went home for the summer and met up with a few old friends. Because they didn't connect the way they used to anymore. They talked about games and scores he hadn't heard of and he busied himself with books about things he couldn't share with them. And somewhere around the end of august he came to the conclusion that football was a small thing to give up to compared to the amazing friends he had found at Hogwarts. So he decided not to bother any more. He didn't belong into the muggle world. The sooner he accepted it, the better.

Dean wondered if maybe leaving some things and people you loved behind was just a part of growing up. He had yet to decide if he liked it or not.

In October 1992, Neville Longbottom stopped asking his grandmother about his parents. Instead his short and far in between letters were filled with updates about his grades, lots of babbling about his herbology lessons and all kind of questions about wizarding culture that Hermione asked him and he didn't know the answer of. He was constantly worrying about strange house elves, being caught sneaking out after curfew like last year and his next potion class. Somehow with five other people in his life filling a void he had never really noticed before his parents simply slipped from his mind more often than not. Their guileless eyes stopped haunting his every waking moment and were replaced by Seamus' loud laugh and Ron's quirky comments.

Neville wasn't sure if it was called 'moving on' or 'giving up'. He wasn't even sure if there was a difference anymore.

In December 1992, Hermione Granger started asking her parents for books about chemistry, physics and the human anatomy. Not even she herself knew what had started her interest in the muggle science but for some reason the subject fascinated her. Hermione didn't stop going to the library daily and she always completed her assignments on time but in her free time she more often than not became absorbed in books that had nothing to do with latin phrases and grotesque pictures about possible outcomes should a spell go wrong. She still spent time researching the monster haunting their school but there was something soothing in the logical arguments she found in the muggle books - something the magical world couldn't offer her.

Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that it was her thirst for knowledge urging her on but simply a way of coping. Coping with what though she didn't know.

In January 1993, Harry Potter stopped caring for Quidditch. To be fair he had never been as fanatic a fan as Ron or Seamus turned out to be. Playing Quidditch had always been more about the flying than the admittedly thrilling search for the snitch. Because flying was the only true freedom Harry had ever tasted. It was unconditional, it was _unlimited_. In the air there were no boundaries, no dividing lines that seemed to dictate the rest of his live. But this cold, fresh freedom was an illusion. Ironically enough the one thing that allowed him to taste this pure liberty was also the one thing that destroyed it. Because Quidditch was a sport, Quidditch was rules, Quidditch was _controlled_. Harry couldn't suddenly stop playing for many reasons but every time he did, it was like living a dream, always knowing that you would wake up because at the end of the day it still wasn't real. It still wasn't _enough_.

Harry kept going on regardless, not caring that he didn't enjoy the games any longer, not caring that something he once loved had lost all meaning to him - and maybe this indifference was what he should have really cared about.

In February 1993, Ron Weasley didn't sleep in on the week-end. Although the only twelve year old boy had already seen enough things to give him nightmares for years - a troll and a devil's snare immediately come to mind - he had never had any sleeping disorder before and he doubted that it would start now. The reason for his sudden change of habits was actually far more simple: Ron didn't have the time anymore. His hours were filled with research and long evenings in the library and following Malfoy around whenever he found the time. It wasn't so much a new-found will to learn but the sheer drive to survive the following years that had awoken an unbroken determination in the child's mind. Besides he was responsible for their steadily nearing confrontation with Wanya. Ron had _never_ been responsible for anything important before.

Ron believed that the deep bond between the six second years was worth every sacrifice each of them made over the months. He _had_ to believe it.

In March 1993, Seamus Finnigan handed an unsuspecting first year his beloved chocolate frog card collection. He hadn't stopped eating sweets or anything drastic like that. Of course not. He was still a normal boy after all. And he didn't give his most prized possession up just because he desperately needed the space - though that was a part of it. Mostly Seamus simply didn't want to look at his collection anymore. Because it hurt. He wasn't sure when it started, could never exactly pinpoint the beginning but somewhere between the time he first boarded the train to Hogwarts as an excited eleven year old and now he had lost his fascination for the cards. The evening when he finally got the card of an old alchemist named Carladeus after months of searching for it, only to vanish it along with the discarded rubbish a few minutes later because Neville had just informed him that someone else had been petrified might have been a wake-up call. Seamus had been happy when he found that card. But it hadn't been the same happy he would have been as a ten year old. It didn't compare to the infinite delight he felt when he was finally allowed to do magic. It was but a mere shadow of the pure joy he had experienced when Harry - pale, lifeless Harry - had regained consciousness after his confrontation with Quirrel. The light enjoyment the cards gave him now paled in comparison to what his life had become. And remembering what he once felt but unable to still feel it, _that_ hurt.

Seamus could never quite suppress the distinct impression that his collection was only one of many causalities that were to come. It might have been a warning of sorts but if it was, it came far too late.

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><p>In the end it was far easier than any of them had anticipated. Too easy even, some would say. Then again, maybe it just wasn't heroic enough to satisfy the masses expectations. But they would never understand because they weren't <em>there<em>.

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><p>Years later Dean would still remember this moment. He would look back at the memory with a mixture of sadness and admiration, all the while shaking his head at the sheer <em>impossibility<em> of the situation.

The had spend months to come up with a useful plan. They had researched the history of the founders, the structure of the house of Gryffindor, the different ways of battle. They had discarded idea after idea, scheme after scheme. They had studied and double-checked and improved and trained and _bled_. And then, finally, at the very end of their second year, they had come up with a plan. A simple, brilliant, workable plan. A plan that was shot to hell the minute a red-headed girl was kidnapped.

And even now Dean was torn between relieved laughter and incredulous hysteria. Because he loved Seamus, Neville, Ron and Hermione with all his heart but only Harry Potter could walk straight into the Gryffindor common room, declare himself the official heir of Godric Gryffindor and consequently the new King and actually _get away with it_. Because nobody else could have done something so bloody foolish and bold without being cursed within an inch of their life.

Obviously those rules didn't apply for Harry Potter because not even the Arthur Knights or Wanya dared to protest. And honestly? Dean couldn't blame them.

It was one of these things you could never truly understand or believe if you hadn't seen it with your own eyes. Sure, the Boy-Who-Lived could claim the title pretty effortless, considering that the students saw him as the hero he had been portrayed for years. They had grown up with a myth and now they were trying to divide fiction and reality, without much success. It was the reason Wanya had hated him so much after all. The people expected Harry Potter to be extraordinary and if he decided to be the King, they would not only believe him but also follow him. Which was sad and pathetic, but true nonetheless.

And yet, his reputation was not the reason as to why he succeeded, simply by demanding the crown. He didn't just walk into the common room that night because that wasn't the way Harry Potter did these things. Dean, having sat in a corner brooding over one of the books Hermione had been working on before she was turned into a statue, remembered the loud crack as the portrait of the Fat Lady was thrown open with surprising force, remembered the hush that fell over his fellow house mates, remembered looking up and freezing completely, unable to comprehend what was happening right in front of him.

Because there stood Harry.

There stood Harry.

His clothes were ripped and torn. Grime, dirt and unidentified fluids clung to the fabric of his ruined uniform like a small child to its mother's leg. He didn't stumble though, even in this post battle-like state. His steps were sure and sharp, his stance tall and proud. Inhuman skin that shimmered like white pearls in the dim light was artfully painted with ruby blood. Mesmerizing green eyes, usually hidden behind thick glasses and wild hair, were brimming with pure, unadulterated _power_.

There stood Harry and he didn't look like Harry at all. For but a second Dean felt a flash in his mind, a foreshadowing hunch, as he wondered if this was how Harry would look in a few years, bathing in his enemy's blood. But the thing was, Harry didn't look older. He looked beautiful. Unreachable in a way he hadn't been mere moments ago. In a way that _wasn't_ natural. He wasn't good-looking and certainly not handsome. He was too young, too small and yet much too _angelic_.

Dean didn't know how he managed to avert his gaze from this otherworldly appearance but without conscious thought his eyes found Seamus who seemed just as frozen as he was, Neville whom's face was completely slack and finally Ron who had entered the room in Harry's shadow, simply standing there and, well, gaping. A small girl clung to his hand, her robes equally torn, an expression of open reverence on her face as she stared at Harry as though he was the center of her world and maybe even more. So much more. It was _terrifying_.

The air thickened with magic, a pleasant thrumming vibrating deep inside his bones. Then Harry lifted the sword, a flash of red and gold, as whispers in a foreign tongue slid from pale, thin lips. His words, though not spoken in English, resonated deep within the students.

"Enemies of the heir beware, the true blood has returned."

And Dean wanted to laugh. Laugh at the mockery of the words Harry himself had been shunned for. Laugh at the ignorant children whom hadn't realized that anything was amiss until it was much too late. Laugh, because right there and then he fell a little bit more in love with Harry and he was far from the only one. Laugh, because it was all he could do not to cry.

The sword dove into the ground. The name of its former wielder clearly visible carved into the unblemished metal.

_Godric Gryffindor_

No more words were needed. But many followed.

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><p>Later that night, Harry, Ron and Ginny had long since left to inform the Headmaster about the battle in the Chamber of Secrets, Dean still couldn't grasp what exactly had happened in the common room. Somehow Harry had managed to trick them all, had seen an opportunity and exploited it for all it was worth. He played his role so well that not even Wanya dared to oppose him. It hadn't been their plan but then they had never expected it to be this easy.<p>

Now the common room was deserted, safe for him, and Dean found himself staring into the dying ember in the fire-place. Harry Potter, second year student, had become the King of Gryffindor. Together the six of them had achieved the unthinkable. Of course the world would never learn of their accomplishment - that had been Harry's first rule, they had grown quite fond of the shadows over time - but that didn't mean it hadn't happened. Whatever the following day would bring, however many things might change, nobody could ever take this final victory from them. Even though the world would never know, _they had won_.

Idly Dean wondered when victory started tasting like defeat.

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><p>That's it. Next time we'll see them, they'll be hot seventh years, trying to take over the world ... *sigh* They grow up so fast ...<p>

Anyway, you'll find the **sequel 'The Way to Greatness'** on my account, if you're interested.

Love Schlangenkind


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